Sometimes I wonder if I, too, am part of this lingering. The wind whispers to me through the cracks in the windows, but there’s no place for me to go. Not anymore.
I should be beyond this by now. Shouldn’t I?
Yet the threads—those silver strands of fate that used to hum beneath my skin—are quiet now. Dead, or at least they seem so. Just like me. The magic that once pulsed through me like a steady heartbeat feels like an old ache, a distant memory, something I cannot grasp. I can’t feel anything anymore. Not truly.
I walk the halls as if I belong to them, my feet making no sound, my body little more than a shadow. There’s a strange kind of freedom in it. The house no longer watches me, not with that constant, suffocating weight.
The leaves outside are starting to turn. Their colours are muted, as if they, too, know the world is dying. Autumn is here, and soon it will pull everything into its cold embrace. I see the slow spiral of the vines around what once was the altar. Thorns curling at its edges like the closing of a book.
I should be crossing over. Everyone else does it. The dead slip into the night like falling leaves, but I remain—unwillingly. Cursed.
There’s no peace in waiting, not when you’re already beyond the world of the living. And no matter how much I try to ignore it, the yearning gnaws at me, a deep ache in my chest that will never go away. A hunger I can’t feed.
I wander through the rooms I once knew so well. The kitchen, with its crooked shelves and the faint smell of something that could have been rosemary, if it wasn’t so old. The small library where the Monster and I used to read.
All of it is still here, untouched, but it’s all just a shell now.
By the time the evening rolls in, the moon hangs heavy and full in the sky, casting long shadows over the garden. The air around me feels electric now, as though the threads of fate have begun to stir once more.
And then I hear it.
A voice. Too soft to make out, yet unmistakable. I feel it tug at me, pulling my attention towards the old stone wall. I can almost hear the whispers carried in the breeze.
A conversation.
“We found her.”
The Monster’s voice sends a shiver down my spine.
“I can finally make sure the Thornbury line lives on…and I can feast on every one of them.”
My heart falters. The revenge for my sin is happening.
The whispering continues.
“Elodie,”it says slowly, savouring the word.
The name echoes in my mind.
I don’t know who Elodie is, but I know I have to protect her. I cannot allow her to pay for my actions, especially not repeat them.
I promise myself, right then, that no matter what it takes, no matter how long it takes, I will protect my bloodline. I will save my descendant from the Monster’s grip. Even if it means breaking every rule, even if it means shattering fate itself. I’ll do whatever it takes to undo the damage I allowed to unfold.
For them, and for me.
For my family.
EPILOGUE
ESMÉE
19 and a half years ago
“Will this hold us?” I asked, leaning out on the window one last time, my eyes observing the ground sceptically.
“I wouldn’t let you do it if I wasn’t a hundred percent sure.” Hudson smiled, caressing my face, his icy blue eyes gleaming as he looked up at the night sky. “You’re really doing this aren’t you?” he breathed after a moment, and I nodded.
“I can’t stay here now. She killed everyone.” I brushed my fingertips over my belly.
